


Dragon

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Moon Eclipse [3]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, PoE Inktober, talking philosophy... kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: Despite being back in the safety of Caed Nua, Sora still does not sleep well. She falls asleep fast, does not wake up during the night and remembers nothing strange when she wakes up… Nothing but broken sentences echoing at the back of her mind, single words which do not make any sense, and a high, lilting sound chiming above it all, like the pulse of adra – or her own delighted laughter. Not scary at all.





	Dragon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Star_Miya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Miya/gifts).



> (PoE inktober, prompt 27: Dragon; borrowed Miya's Watcher, Sora, for this one, since Sora loves dragons)

Dreams of the past ended swiftly enough when she left the Burial Isle and its secrets behind. But for some reason, despite being back in the safety of Caed Nua, Sora still does not sleep well. She falls asleep fast, does not wake up during the night and remembers nothing strange when she wakes up… Nothing but broken sentences echoing at the back of her mind, single words which do not make any sense, and a high, lilting sound chiming above it all, like the pulse of adra – or her own delighted laughter. Not scary at all.

She must just be too tired. Not enough time has passed since resolving her problems in Sun in Shadow; and she has only had a few days of relative peace since her return. Once she is well-rested, the dreams will surely pass.

At least this is no soul-related matter, she comforts herself one evening, curled-up in bed and trying to fall asleep. After all she has been through, she would surely know it if was.

“Would you, really, my dear?” asks a familiar voice. “You are quite talented in crafting stories for everyone, yourself included. Ah, yes, yourself most of all.”

Sora bolts up to a sitting position, looking around suspiciously. Her room is empty… except for Thaos, sprawled comfortably in her reading armchair by the fireplace. The light of the slowly dying embers is dim, and yet his eyes gleam with amusement. That is when she registers it must be a dream.

“Really?” she groans, throwing herself down onto the bed and burying her head under the biggest pillow. “Did my imagination really had to choose you, of all kith?”

“It could be worse.” His face is currently invisible, but she is certain the bastard is smiling. “I could have been Mecatl, you know. And may I suggest that calling yourself names seems a little silly?”

For a moment, Sora considers biting the pillow. In the end, she throws it away and sits up again, smoothing down her hair. If she is going to suffers through this, she might at least look classy.

“I really prefer talking to myself while looking into the mirror.”

“Ah, but isn’t it more fun this way?” A lazy smile slowly blooms on his face. “You’re all about fun, aren’t you, darling?”

This is… disconcerting. He is a weird mix of what she remembers from their brief meetings and from the past, of the _slightly_ enhanced and edited version she has weaved for the benefit of the tales about her adventures in Dyrwood, and of her own quirks and mannerisms. Sora blinks, wishing her mind would stop at doing that to other people.

“Well, it’s comes with the job.” She frowns. Then laughs out loud as it dawns on her. “Really? _You_ are supposed to be voice of my conscience? I was sure I had a better sense of humour… I appreciate the irony, though. Now would you kindly go back to those creepy recesses of my mind where you came from?”

“You should visit them sometime, you know. Otherwise, they might feel the need to visit you.” He winks at her; a perfect imitation of her facial expression.

Sora tries not to shudder. “All right, fine.” She gets up, to be able to look down at him, if for no other reason. “Is this about my past, again? We’ve done that, you know. More than once.”

His eyes gleam. “Think of more recent past, sweetheart.”

She bursts into laughter. “So _you_ ’re gonna preach about my choices in Sun in Shadow? That’s rich.”

Thaos leans back, unfazed. “You are aware that technically it’s _you_?”

“Huh, my mind must be even more messy than I thought, then.”

His eyebrows arch. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” She blinks. “What, the souls?” With a huff, she crosses her arms. “Why don’t you answer me, dear _myself_?” Well, that sounded slightly less disturbing before she said it out loud.

“Curiosity. Science, or however you like to think of it. Maybe also making an ugly gesture at the gods, no?”

“Always a worthy endeavour. They owe me something, for not betraying their secret.”

“Way to do it, following the wish of one of them.”

Sora’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me, child…” A shadow falls over his face, and suddenly he looks just like in her memories. “You condemned my methods. You did not agree with the decision which lead us to creating the gods. You did not approve of our power and right to decide the fate of so many other souls.” He gets up, towering over her. “Tell me, child, what right did _you_ have?”

“What?” The room fills with a faint blue light as her eyes and moon-shaped growth flare. “I never asked for all this, you know?!”

“I never asked for _that_ , either.” His eyes reflect the eerie glow of hers. “Tell me.”

“You said it already, haven’t you?” She shrugs. “Curiosity. Science.”

“Then it is wrong to sacrifice many souls for a purpose, but right to do it for no purpose at all?”

“I’ve already told you my purpose, silly thing!” She crosses the few-paces distance between them and jabs a finger at his chest. “So it was right to sacrifice souls for the so called ‘greater good’? Who gave you Engwithans the right to decide what that good should be?”

“Who gave that right to any mortal ruler?” he asks, catching her wrist in a painful grip. “You included?”

“I didn’t ask for this!”

“Who gave you the right to throw those souls away, give them to Wael to toy with them or just cast them aside to wither? Or use those souls for some secret scheme of theirs? Who gave you the right to _waste_ them?”

“Like you didn’t waste any in your experiments?”

“Is it still science, dearest, when you never learn the results? When no one does? Tell me, is it?”

“What kind of conscience are you?” Sora huffs, putting her free hand on her hip to appear more confident than she feels. Unfortunately, she doubts she can trick herself; then again, it would not be the first time – far from it. “You’re not going to convince me that what you – damn – that what Thaos – what the Engwithans did was right!”

“You are putting quite a lot of effort into missing the point completely, sweetheart. A little suspicious, isn’t it?” His smile gleams in the dark; a mouthful of drake teeth, and Sora tries to pull her hand free, but his fingers turn into claws and press down, not hard enough to break skin, just hard enough to _warn_. “Perhaps I am simply trying to tell you that what you did was no better.”

Will all her might, she snatches her hand away and cries out as the claws leave deep gashes in her hand. The blood wells up immediately, tiny rivulets flowing down her forearm and fingers, and dripping onto the floor. They form runes in the air, words in all the know languages, and a few she is certain she has not seen anywhere because they _do not exist_ _yet_. She watches, transfixed, frozen in place by some morbid fascination and anxiety.

There are quiet footsteps in the hall, soft and measured, like paws of a stalking predator. They stop right before the closed door to her room. It is very difficult not to glance that way over her shoulder.

“Who is that?” she asks, her voice still perfectly controlled. Like in singing, before it breaks on a note that is too high.

“What.” Thaos corrects in a calm tone that still sends a chill down her spine. “Who knows? Fear, perhaps? Guilt? Terror? Madness?” He smiles, a familiar small smile she has seen many times in the past and in her memories, and suddenly she wants to scream. “Only one way to find out, right? For science?”

“I think I’ve had enough science for one night.” Sora glances at her hand, and then down onto, at the hem of her robe and the floor. She is standing in a pool of blood, but the runes still keep flowing. “What are those?” she asks; a pane of stained glass in a window cracks with a quiet _clink_.

“Names,” he replies coldly. “Names of all the lives that could have been.” His eyes are glowing like moonlight. “You weave so many stories for yourself, oh great chanter. But it seems you have forgotten one of the basic truths of all the stories.” For a moment, his form blurs and twists into a mockery of _her_ , but then it changes back into Thaos, half-transparent, shimmering in and out of view. “That is why I wear this form, my dear. There is no one better to tell you that every decision has consequences. Perhaps you should consider whether you’ll be able to bear those, before making a choice.”

The door opens with a thud. It echoes in the walls of the keep and in her bones, her teeth chattering…

Sora wakes with a muffled scream. It takes her a while to calm her breath. Slowly, she sits up. Her head hurts. Her hand hurts.

She freezes. Then, slowly, she looks down. Her skin is just as perfect as when she was rubbing the luminous adra cream into her palms last night. She laughs out loud. Just a dream. Of course. What was she ever thinking?

Uh. She is never gonna let Edér talk her into drinking that moonshine again. Or maybe it was mixing that stuff with wine.

She leans down to find her slippers, but immediately straightens, because it only makes her headache worse. Well, maybe some fresh air will make her feel better.

With a groan, Sora gets out of bed and all but crawls towards the window.

The glass is cracked.


End file.
